I have seen the familiar silhouettes of friends and family. A few paid willingly for the ride. Most wanted not to make the journey.
As well I have seen other silhouettes, unrecognizeable to me, but as they disappear into the mist, they too seem familiar, familar as people, not known, but the same as me.
Chuck is crossing that river now. I don't know him. I won't. My own journey ends here, even though I too pay for the boatride. He has paid for his trip across Styx to another shore.
I am strengthened by his strength and I hope that the boatman doesn't just pocket his fare.
May your journey bring you peace Chuck.